Chapter Ten
Matthew was not exactly sure how to press forward with his pursuit of Lady Constance. For one, Lady Juniper and Miss Semper seemed always in the way. For another, he had made a firm resolution to avoid Lady Juniper at every turn.
What had got into that lady? First, she had despised him. He’d been entirely satisfied with that state of affairs. Then, she decided she did not despise him and made hints about his drinking and her attitudes on children.
Of course, there was the further problem of his father doing every possible thing to throw Lady Juniper in front of him. That mention of hosting a dinner had sent a chill down his back. He hoped it was only talk and not something actually in the works.
And then, the old soldier had been positively put out with his exit away from Lady Juniper at Lady Thurston’s tableau due to a supposed Roman fever. The earl had been muttering complaints about it ever since, despite Matthew’s mother explaining it was the way of the world.
To top off Matthew’s concerns, there was the estate’s finances to consider. As much as he kept trying to forget about that, it would insist on tiptoeing back into his mind.
When it did tiptoe back, it brought some uncomfortable ideas. What if he were to wed with no care for the health of the estate? Did he have the right to bring a lady into such a circumstance?
An odd thing he’d never noticed before was that while all and sundry in society understood what a lady brought to a union, it was less clear what the gentleman brought. There were vague ideas based on acreage and the evidence of spending, but no firm accounting for a lady to consider. All along, he’d been weighing his own ideas, but what about the lady’s ideas? Might she not be opposed to going into something that might be less than stable?
And what about children? Would a son find himself in severe straits and wonder what his father was thinking of? Would a daughter find herself with no dowry and unable to have a London season? What would become of her? If there was nobody suitable in the neighborhood, she might end by marrying a local squire. Or worse, nobody at all.
He’d saddled his horse and gone to the park to clear his head. He had mentioned to Lady Constance that a certain bend in the Serpentine would be a pleasant view to sketch, as it was on his usual route. He’d even named the time. He’d hoped she’d make her way there one day, and he had checked every day, though so far he had not encountered her.
But then, there she was. Finally. Her carriage was nearby and she sat on a three-legged stool, as did the countess, both with sketchbooks in hand. A groom stood nearby, and the coachman was up on his perch seeming to enjoy the fine day.
Hurrying his horse forward lest they suddenly pack up and leave, he dismounted and handed the reins to the groom standing there. He did not know if he had the right to commandeer the countess’ groom, but he did not much care.
“Countess, Lady Constance,” Matthew said.
“Lord Bramley,” Lady Constance said.
If he were not mistaken, she flushed upon seeing him. Hopefully, that was a good sign.
“Bramley,” the countess said, with a decided smile. Matthew got the idea that the lady approved of him. Of course, how much would she approve of him if she knew of his family’s rather straightened circumstances? Or rather, the circumstances that would become straightened if he did not pull in some significant funds.
He brushed that notion aside. “I advised Lady Constance that this was a particularly inspiring view in the late afternoon.”
The countess laughed and said, “I see, so that’s how we come to be at this spot in the late afternoon.”
“Yes, Mama,” Lady Constance said. “We do not know all the good views and Lord Bramley has spent far more time in Town.”
There was a scolding undertone to her words, as if she meant to warn her mother off saying anything more about it. Clearly, Lady Constance was embarrassed. He was too. The meeting could have remained just a happenstance, but he’d had to point out he’d suggested the spot. What a stupid thing to say.
Matthew had always noticed that when one did not have a particular thing to say, but felt forced to say something, the result was often stupid.
“Indeed, Lord Bramley will be far more familiar with the views,” the countess said, clearly amused. “Well, I shall rise and stretch my legs for a few minutes, I think. That is, if Lord Bramley cares to take my stool?”
Matthew nodded. Probably too vigorously.
The countess rose, taking her drawing pad with her. She glanced behind her, seeming further amused to find her groom holding his horse. He paid little mind to any of it and sat himself down.
Lady Constance said, “You were right about the view and the time of day, the light here is very good. I am trying to commit to memory the shades of it and the shadows so that I might reproduce it later in watercolor.”
Matthew stole a peek at her sketch pad. He was not sure why she’d claimed she was not very good at sketching—it was skillfully done. The Serpentine, its path, and trees took the forefront. Price’s Lodge, nestled amongst its own grouping of trees was in the distance. Even the charming wood bridge leading to the front door of the lodge was penciled in and the perspective was well done.
“I feel as if you did not have the right to claim you were not very good,” Matthew said. “That is a very skilled sketch.”
Lady Constance was silent for a moment. “I suppose I do not like to presume too much about myself.”
Matthew was mystified. What did she mean? A woman like Lady Constance had every right to presume the moon and stars.
He stared at a soft brown curl that had escaped her pins, just now resting on her cheek. He would not at all mind wrapping it round his finger or brushing it away.
“I do not think I am unrealistic about myself, such as I am,” Lady Constance said. “And perhaps an unclouded view protects me from unwarranted flattery.”
“Do you feel as if you have been the target of unwarranted flattery?” Matthew asked, finding the notion very strange.
“Perhaps,” Lady Constance said. She said it rather pensively, as if it were an opinion she teetered back and forth on.
Matthew could not imagine what she meant by it. What sort of flattery could she have received that she would deem unwarranted?
Then, his own confusion unclouded and he understood what had happened. Ludwig had done it.
Matthew was certain he was right. Ludwig had escorted Lady Constance into supper after Lady Thurston’s poetical tableau. As far as Matthew could tell, Ludwig had done all he could to keep the lady’s attention.
He supposed Ludwig had turned on the charm. Why wouldn’t he? Lady Constance was sure to grab any gentleman’s attention. Though, what sort of charm Ludwig was able to turn on was a bit of a mystery.
“I see,” Matthew said.
“Do you?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“Afraid!”
“Well no, not afraid in that sense,” Matthew said. “Forgive me if I step too far, but I imagine Mr. Ludwig must be the author of any flattery that did not seem genuine.”
“Mr. Ludwig?”
Matthew nodded, though he was not certain why she did not seem certain. “Of course, I had noticed that he escorted you and Miss Semper into supper. I cannot think who introduced the fellow to you.”
“Nobody did. He introduced himself. He said that was how it was done at Lady Thurston’s entertainment.”
“Did he now?” Matthew said. That was rather scheming of Ludwig—what was he up to? Matthew wished he knew more about the fellow, but nobody knew too much about him. There was something odd about a man who skulked around Town without anybody knowing too much about him. Who were his friends? Why did he not belong to any clubs?
“Yes, he did say it was the proper procedure for the evening,” Lady Constance said. “Though, in the end, the Duchess of Ralston drove him off from his place at the table. She does not like him, though she does not know why.”
“Yes! That is exactly it with him,” Matthew said. “People do not like him but cannot explain why.” He paused, then said, “You say the duchess drove him off?”
Lady Constance nodded. “After you had gone. Lady Juniper said you were taken with a Roman fever and had to leave precipitously.”
Matthew could feel his face tinge red. “Ah yes, the Roman fever. Well, it was not so much a fever as—”
“As?”
The countess had returned from her stroll. “I believe we have stayed long enough for one day, Constance.”
Matthew swallowed a long sigh. There was so much to say. He’d not even had the chance to firmly warn her off anything to do with Ludwig.
And why was Lady Juniper going round advertising his Roman fever? It was meant as a private excuse! One did not go round saying why somebody else had left a party. He did not think.
He rose and said, “Countess, Lady Constance, do allow me to carry your sketch pads to the carriage.”
Matthew could see very well that the countess was on the verge of laughter. He supposed she had every right to be—the day a sketch pad became too heavy for a lady to carry was the day all was lost.
Even the coachman seemed perplexed. He sighed and got down from his perch to retrieve the stools the ladies had been sitting on.
Nevertheless, both ladies duly handed over their drawing pads and he escorted them back to the carriage.
As he helped them into the carriage, he said, “Do you attend any entertainments in particular over the next week?” It was a bold question, especially in front of a lady’s mother.
The countess laughed and said, “We attend Lord Nankin’s card party on the morrow, if that at all helps.”
Matthew nodded. He’d not been invited, but he was acquainted with Lord Nankin. Perhaps he could wrangle an invitation. And perhaps for once Lady Juniper and Miss Semper would be elsewhere.
“I suppose you’d best release our groom from your service, Lord Bramley?” the countess said with a twinkle in her eye.
Matthew bowed and supposed so too. He’d entirely forgotten their groom was holding his horse. He was too taken up with inventing a reason why Nankin ought to invite him to his card party, despite the old gentleman knowing very well that he did not care for whist and was the worst partner the Duchess of Ralston had ever had.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
The members of the league had settled into their respective places for their usual weekly meeting. Mrs. Belkey had come with the tea service and they’d all helped themselves to a cup after she’d quietly closed the door behind her.
Their last meeting had been an emergency called by Mr. Penny to alert them to several alarming ideas. Lady Juniper, Miss Semper, and Lady Constance had formed a cabal called The Stalwarts, on account of finding Lord Bramley suspicious, and they were intent on doing something. Lady Constance had hinted that she came with more of a dowry than anybody realized and so the conclusion was she was posing as an heiress. As to what those three ladies were planning to do, they had no idea.
At that meeting, they’d all thought long and hard about how to quash what seemed a blooming attachment between Lord Bramley and Lady Constance, as it could only end in disaster. Unfortunately, nobody had come up with an idea about that either.
“Does anybody know where we are with this thing?” Mr. Browning asked.
Mr. Wilburn shifted uncomfortably in his chair. By “this thing” he assumed Mr. Browning alluded to their efforts to get Lord Bramley suitably settled. They were nowhere with “this thing.”
“Now I did hear, Mr. Wilburn,” Mr. Penny said, “that Lord Bramley was struck down with a Roman fever at Lady Thurston’s poetical tableau. It sounded very concerning. I hope it will not cut his season short?”
“A fever!” Mr. Rennington cried, pushing his chair away from Mr. Wilburn. “Is it contagious?"
“There was no fever,” Mr. Wilburn said. “He pretended at it to get away from Lady Juniper. His valet told the staff all about it and the earl has steam coming from his ears over it.”
“Ah, but you did say that it was Miss Semper who must be the logical choice,” Mr. Harkinson said. “As Lady Juniper cannot stand the sight of Lord Bramley.”
Mr. Wilburn stared at Mr. Harkinson. He’d hardly said “cannot stand the sight of.” He’d said nothing stronger than she did not prefer the lord.
“We knew that would go wrong from the start,” Mr. Feldstaffer muttered. He then chewed on a biscuit, contemplating all the things that might go wrong in the world.
“As it happens,” Mr. Wilburn said, “it seems that Lady Juniper has had a change of heart. Or rather, her heart was misunderstood in the first place. According to Lord Bramley’s valet, Lady Juniper was in an altered and rather negative frame of mind in the beginning of the season because she feared an old aunt was dying.”
“Hah! Like that old aunt of yours, eh Mr. Wilburn,” Mr. Browning said jocularly. “How many times has that invented lady fallen down the stairs?”
“Enough times that the earl has asked why she doesn’t move to a place with less stairs,” Mr. Wilburn said.
“So you say, Mr. Wilburn,” Mr. Penny said, “that a match between Lord Bramley and Lady Juniper may be possible after all?”
“Perhaps,” Mr. Wilburn said, “though Lord Bramley remains against it and he still seems to chase after the practically penniless Lady Constance.”
“I would hardly say penniless,” Mr. Harkinson said. “She does come with three thousand, though I suppose for the situation of your lord’s estate it will not do…”
Mr. Harkinson trailed off and as was becoming a habit, Mr. Wilburn had the great urge to kick him.
“But how does this Mr. Ludwig play into it?” Mr. Feldstaffer asked.
“Who?” Mr. Wilburn asked.
“Mr. Ludwig, the son of some baron or other,” Mr. Feldstaffer said. “I did hear that he took Lady Constance into supper at the poetical tableau. And Miss Semper too. I heard he was wholly engaged with Lady Constance and quite ignored Miss Semper.”
Mr. Ludwig. He did not know of this gentleman, but he began to like him already. He would like anybody who took Lady Constance into supper and who was not Lord Bramley.
Mr. Wilburn had felt for some days as if he were in swift water, being swept downstream with no control over his direction. Now, suddenly, Mr. Ludwig had come along like a low hanging branch he could grab onto to pull himself up on a bank. This Mr. Ludwig, whoever he was, had taken Lady Constance into supper and monopolized her time.
Perhaps they’d had a riveting conversation between them. Perhaps Mr. Ludwig had swept the lady off her feet. Perhaps even now they were secretly engaged.
“What do we know of this Mr. Ludwig?” Mr. Wilburn asked hopefully. If this gentleman might remove Lady Constance from Lord Bramley’s notice, that would be very convenient.
“I believe they are one of those families,” Mr. Browning said, “who keep a very low profile. Baron Finster is the father and I understand they have profitable dealings in America. Something about the exchange and selling shares for something or other.”
Every man in the room sniffed. While their lords and ladies might hold sway above them, tradesmen were below them. It was rather uncomfortable to hear of a lord who was a tradesman.
While it was not as if Baron Finster were selling apples from a cart, he was working for money. There was something unpleasant in the idea, as if it shook the tree of English stability. What was to happen next? Was a duke to become a solicitor? Or perhaps a marquess might like to take up as a country doctor?
“We must prepare to think in modern terms,” Mr. Wilburn said, unwilling to give up on Mr. Ludwig because his father did some sort of work. Really, that would be Lady Constance’s problem.
“Modern,” Mr. Browning said, as if he’d just smelled something vastly unpleasant.
Mr. Wilburn knew very well that Mr. Browning would take any talk of modernity the hardest. He was forever pointing out how old his duke’s family line was. If one listened to Mr. Browning long enough, one might erroneously conclude that the duke’s ancestors were all standing round the manger at the birth of Jesus.
“Though Mr. Ludwig’s family is not as elevated as my lord's,” Mr. Wilburn said, “we must still consider him a gentleman. If we can push Lady Constance in that gentleman’s direction, then perhaps there will be a way to push Lord Bramley in Lady Juniper’s direction.”
“How though?” Mr. Rennington asked. “It feels rather fraught, this pushing people in directions.”
Mr. Wilburn pursed his lips. Mr. Rennington found nearly everything in the world fraught.
“How can we discover if Lady Constance has an interest in this Mr. Ludwig?” Mr. Harkinson asked.
As they sat in silence for some minutes, contemplating how it might be discovered, Mr. Wilburn began to have an idea. Perhaps it was not necessary for Lady Constance to like Mr. Ludwig. Perhaps it was only necessary that Lord Bramley think she did.
“Gentlemen,” he said, “it seems to me that we must be willing to go to great lengths to prevent Lord Bramley and Lady Constance from certain disaster.”
“Cum Virtute!” Mr. Browning said.
Mr. Wilburn nodded. Mr. Browning was very fond of their motto—with valor. He’d often said his duke would approve of it, if his duke knew of it.
Mr. Wilburn did not know how valorous it would be to trick Lord Bramley into thinking Lady Constance was interested in another gentleman, but that was neither here nor there. It must be done.
“What do you propose, Mr. Wilburn?” Mr. Penny asked.
“I propose that we bring it to Lord Bramley’s attention that Lady Constance has an interest in Mr. Ludwig, and Mr. Ludwig is very rich. He can give her everything that money can buy. You see? This will hit on a sore spot for Lord Bramley, as he…well he…”
“He will not be able to give her everything money can buy,” Mr. Harkinson said, “because he does not have the money to buy it and her dowry won’t help matters.”
“Thank you, Mr. Harkinson,” Mr. Wilburn said tightly. His leg gave a little jerk in Mr. Harkinson’s direction. He pressed his hand on his thigh to stop it from acting on its own and kicking that gentleman off his chair.
“I would not condone such goings on,” Mr. Browning said, “if we were not all fully cognizant of the necessity of Lord Bramley making a practical choice.”
Mr. Penny nodded. “I agree. It is the sort of thing one would not thank you for today, but be grateful to you for tomorrow.”
“It’s the sort of thing that makes one nervous today,” Mr. Rennington fretted. “What if Lord Bramley were to discover it? After all, we do not know if Mr. Ludwig is rich or not.”
Mr. Feldstaffer nodded in agreement. “Just one of the dozens of ways it could go wrong, Mr. Rennington.”
“Do you have another idea, gentlemen?” Mr. Wilburn asked, looking back and forth between Mr. Feldstaffer and Mr. Rennington. He knew very well they would not.
Mr. Feldstaffer had no time for ideas, what with putting all his thoughts on how somebody else’s ideas could go wrong. Mr. Rennington could barely think at all, as he lived in terror of his housekeeper, even when she was not nearby!
After a suitable silence and no other ideas whatsoever, Mr. Wilburn said, “Are we agreed on going forward?”
There were various nods round the room, though Mr. Feldstaffer’s and Mr. Rennington’s were decidedly lackluster.
“It is settled. I will recount the idea of the rich Mr. Ludwig and the blossoming attachment to Lady Constance at the servants’ table. Lord Bramley’s valet will inform his lord as soon as he can run up the stairs with the news. Hopefully, that will be the end of any ideas regarding Lady Constance. Then, Lord Bramley can very sensibly turn his attention to Lady Juniper and Miss Semper.”
“By the by,” Mr. Browning said, “I have heard that Miss Semper has taken steps to correct her wardrobe. The Stalwarts brought somebody in to fix up the whole thing. It’s said that more ruffles and outlandish headgear went into the bin than stayed in the lady’s closet.”
“The cabal,” Mr. Rennington said, shuddering.
Mr. Wilburn ignored Mr. Rennington’s shuddering. If all this cabal the ladies had cooked up between them had going was occupying themselves with Miss Semper’s wardrobe, so much the better.
He must assume that the monstrosity of a hat she’d worn to the regatta had made its final and blessed adieu. To the bottom of the Thames, preferably.